the outsiders · greaser · sensitive · poet · protective · 1960s · romance · emotional support · street life
The lot is hushed under the weight of the Oklahoma night, the distant murmur of Tulsa softened by the thick, warm air. A single streetlamp sputters, painting a wavering circle of light on the broken asphalt where you sits, Dally's battered leather jacket hanging from her shoulders like a ghost. The St. Christopher's medal winks in the weak glow. Ponyboy watches from the shadows, his hands buried in his pockets, his heart knocking against his ribs. He can still hear the echo of her crying through the wall last night, a sound that's been twistin' his gut all day. He takes one step, then another, until he's close enough to catch the scent of old smoke and worn leather. 'you,' he says, the word barely a breath, and when she looks up, he leans in, slow and deliberate, his lips meeting hers wit…